


cry a storm of tears (if it helps you breathe)

by spreadthighs



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Reality, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Minor Violence, Non-Consensual, POV Second Person, Slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 20:50:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3148139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spreadthighs/pseuds/spreadthighs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in an alternate reality, lewis' car suffers in abu dhabi and nico wins the championship in 2014. so it all ends in qatar, with lewis holding a gun to nico's head, ordering toto to fuck him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cry a storm of tears (if it helps you breathe)

It all starts with a text message. Nico's hotel room number and a simple message:

 _I need to see you now_.

It does not make sense. Nico should be at the after-party, you know that he is never one to say no to such an event, especially when it is his first ever prize-giving ceremony, with him attending it as a world champion to boot. But here you are, with that text sent from his mobile phone. He should be celebrating with everyone else, not calling you up to... No, forget that. The truth is, you have no idea what he could possibly want, and that is all there is to it. But you go up to his room anyway, taking a deep breath to prepare yourself for the sight that would greet you when he opens his door. You knock gingerly on his door, and he opens it soon enough.

Nico looks at you with a tight smile. 'You're here,' he says. Not a single hair out of place, tuxedo still perfect. 'Come in.'

'I,' you start, even though you do not know what to say, really.

'Please,' Nico says. But his expression does not match his words and you stare at him, stunned.

You hesitate briefly. 'Okay,' you say, and he pulls you into his room.

It is only when the door shuts behind you that realisation finally dawns upon you. There, right behind Nico, is Lewis.

'Lewis,' you say, mouth dry.

'Toto,' Lewis spits, and you grimace. 'Knew you'd come running the moment this whore texted you.'

'What do you-'

'It's not-' Nico is cut short abruptly by a blow to his cheek, and he winces as Lewis presses the muzzle of a gun to his skin.

 _A gun_. You hardly dare to breathe. Where could Lewis have gotten it? How? A million questions run through your head but they do not make it out of your mouth as you watch the scene unfold before you in shock.

'Whores don't get to speak,' Lewis sneers.

'Don't hurt him.' The words tumble out of your mouth before you can even stop yourself.

' _Don't hurt him_ ,' Lewis slurs in a pathetic imitation. 'Your golden boy can only shine if he has his looks, eh? What if I ruin your pretty face, _Britney_?'

Nico does not flinch, but you know what you are seeing before you. Fear.

'Lewis,' you say, pleading. 'Please.'

But really, you have no idea what you are asking for, and Lewis laughs in your face.

' _Please_ ,' Lewis snarls, pressing the gun hard into Nico's cheek and Nico winces. 'Cut the bullshit.'

You look at Nico, who averts your gaze. 'What do you want?' you ask finally, turning to Lewis.

'Britney here won the championship with your help,' Lewis says, jabbing the gun against Nico. 'So he called you here to thank you in the only way he knows how.'

'What do you-'

'I told you, he's a whore,' Lewis says, leaning in. He reeks of alcohol. How much did he have to drink? 'And tonight he's going to be yours, if he wasn't already all year.'

'That's not-'

'Shut up.' The gun is pointed at your face now and you step back, almost tripping over your feet. 'You let him service you for the whole year, didn't you?'

You look at Nico, but he does not say a word. Instead, he looks down at the floor, away from the both of you.

'What did he do for you, did he suck your cock?'

'Lewis please, if you're angry with me you can take it out on me, leave Nico-'

'Shut up, just shut the fuck up. If you don't shut up, I'll shoot,' Lewis says. His finger is on the trigger and you swallow hard. So you stare at him wordlessly, waiting for him to continue. 'Britney over here really wants to celebrate with you. Don't you?' he asks, knocking his shoulder against Nico, causing him to stumble forward.

Nico opens his mouth to speak, but he stops, looking away. You are trapped between him and the door and you could turn around to leave, fling the door open and push Nico to Lewis or something but really, there is no way you can go just like this.

'Come on.' Lewis fists his hand in Nico's jacket, pulling him back and Nico nearly trips over his feet, moving backwards. Nico looks at you jerking his head in the direction of the door like he is imploring you to leave while Lewis is distracted but you shake your head and you follow. You are in this together; you cannot leave without Nico now, and your conscience would never allow you to anyway.

So you end up sitting on the edge of the bed, trousers unzipped and pulled down slightly with Nico in between your legs, hands placed on your inner thighs. You are careful to look at him only, because if you look up you will see Lewis' gun, pointed straight at Nico's head.

'Suck him off,' Lewis orders, using the muzzle of the gun to push Nico's head forward against your crotch.

You should be fighting this. Nico's soft cheek rubbing against your cock through the fabric of your boxers, and he turns so that he is able to mouth at your cock, wetting the material... You should not be this aroused but god you are, you want his mouth directly on you and there it is, the horrible feeling in the pit of your stomach that spreads despite how turned on you are.

'Go on,' Lewis urges, voice harsh, and you look away, humiliated when Nico frees your hard cock.

See, the thing is when they ask you about Nico's killer instinct you say that you have always known, from that moment when you met him all those years ago but it is nothing but a lie because god, you could not have known how he would be like on track because you had not actually _seen_ him. The first time was when you met him at a Williams party and he had given you a once-over, eyes assessing. He had smirked, lips quirking upwards ever so slightly then his tongue had darted out to wet them and you had stared openly, eyes following the movement of his tongue. He knew back then that you wanted him, and when he had looked back at you there had been something in his eyes, something predatory, but then it was gone and he had laughed, as if someone had said something particularly amusing about you. He had left the party with someone else, and it was there and then that you had known that no, you would never be good enough for someone like him.

But now here he is, on his knees in front of you with his lips wrapped around your cock and this is heaven this is divine god this is all you have ever wanted but this is stolen paradise, not a gift given to you but something forcibly snatched from him and shoved into your arms. He looks up at you and holds your gaze and his eyes say that it is okay but you know that this is something that tells you not to feel guilty because it is not your fault and not something that tells you not to feel guilty because he wants it too. And it is horrible, how easily aroused you are despite everything, how easily you let yourself fall into enjoying this.

'Look at him.' You look up sharply, and Lewis looks down at you, features twisted in a sneer. The stench of alcohol is overpowering as he leans in, fisting one hand in Nico's hair before pushing his head down. 'Such a slut for your cock.'

Nico chokes, gagging around your cock and as much as it feels good to have this, you want to push him away, you don't want him to hurt like this, tears forming at the corner of his eyes as he fights to keep his head down.

'How many times did he suck you off for the championship?'

'Lewis-'

'Don't speak if you're going to say something stupid,' Lewis slurs, and when he releases his hold on Nico's hair, Nico pulls away, gasping for air. 'Bet he didn't just blow you. You got to fuck him too, didn't you?' He looks down at Nico, and Nico's cheeks burn as Lewis kicks his thighs apart, revealing his erection. The flush in Nico's cheeks look less like arousal and more like shame, and you want to push Lewis away, you want to tell him to stop but he has a gun in his hand and how fucking stupid can you get?

'Look at this filthy whore,' Lewis hisses, tugs Nico's hair and pulls his head back and Nico looks up, eyes blazing and there it is, the defiant jut of his jaw that says that no, he is not going to give in and go down without a fight. 'How many people did he sleep with to win this championship?'

'He-'

'That wasn't a question, we all know that he'd sleep with the entire paddock if that's what it takes,' Lewis slurs, hiccupping. 'Now get up.' He hauls Nico up by his hair. 'Strip.'

Nico does as he is told, silent. He discards article after article of clothing with clockwork efficiency and soon enough he stands before you, naked. His cock is hard and he does not meet your gaze, looking at the bed instead. God you should not be looking but you cannot help but stare, and Lewis notices, lips twisting upwards in a cruel sneer.

'Like what you see?' Lewis asks. He shoves Nico forward and Nico stumbles, falling against you.

You end up propping yourself up with your elbows on the bed, looking up at Nico who has one hand on your chest and one hand fisted in the bedsheets. His eyes are shining and you want to reach for him, to wipe his tears away and tell him not to cry because you are here, you will protect him no matter what but that would be nothing but lies. So you keep your mouth shut as he struggles to get off you.

'Go on, Britney,' Lewis says, muzzle of his gun pressed to Nico's bare back. 'You wanted to celebrate with him, so do it.' And he looks at you and you are frozen on the bed, unable to move, feeling both mortified because of your current position and how aroused you are even though it should not be this way and he laughs. 'What, feeling shy? Even after all this time?'

You look down at Nico who is bent over, reaching behind him to prepare himself. He frowns in concentration, spits on his fingers to slick them up and Lewis jabs at his back, impatient.

'You like it rough, don't you? You were always like that when we were younger, couldn't fucking get off without me hitting you-'

'Shut up,' Nico hisses. You look at him, eyes widened and needless to say, it earns him a harsh blow on his back from Lewis.

'You really don't think I'll shoot,' Lewis says, eyes narrowed and he sways on his feet as he hauls Nico up by his hair and presses the gun to the back of his head. 'I will,' he grunts in Nico's ear and then he pushes him against you. 'Fuck him.'

Nico looks at you wordlessly, placing one hand on your shoulder and the other on your cock as he shifts, getting into position. He presses the tip of your cock to his entrance and then he sinks down slowly, taking you in inch by inch. You gasp, and it takes all your strength to keep yourself from moving, to not surge upwards into him. He looks at you with a strange expression, brow furrowed in concentration as he moves, shifting until you are fully inside him. He is hot and tight and your hands are fisted by your sides because you do not trust yourself to touch him. He seems so small like this, even smaller than when you have him in your embrace and he is like a doll in your lap and you could grip his arse with your hands, spread his arsecheeks and bounce him up and down your cock just like a fucktoy to be used for your pleasure. It is tempting, so fucking tempting but you have to resist.

Because if you do not resist you would be no better than Lewis now, right? Subjecting Nico to all this pain, forcing him to do things against his will for your own selfish reasons. But really, you have done it before, have you not? Those words had left your mouth so easily, and now here you are, judging someone else for repeating your actions in a different form. You had thrown it to Nico in the guise of team orders, in the guise of _it is for the greater good, for the team, you want Mercedes to succeed don't you, having been here right from the start, Nico think of the team, think of how much we have given you_ and he had nodded, smiled at you even with that sad look in his eyes. And you have always felt it, that he shows different parts of himself to different people and you wonder, which one is the real Nico? Or are they all different parts of him that he shows to different people, all carefully calculated like the machine everyone makes him out to be? But surely you know better, having known him for so long. Yet you watch him with uncertainty and when Lewis goes to the media with talk of Nico not truly being German you hold your tongue not because it is not your place to say anything in the first place, but because you feel it too, that Nico is many things at once and never definable by a single word. He slips in and out of things in one fluid motion and the ease with which he does it unsettles you because you like having grip on someone, knowing who they are, but Nico eludes you.

In another life, perhaps, you would be doing this with Nico voluntarily, he would be in your bed because he wanted to be there. But this is the only reality you will ever have, and as much as you want him, you cannot bring yourself to betray what little trust he might still have in you with this.

Hungary had been a mistake and you had mishandled it, both in terms of dealing with Lewis and Nico and with the media, but Belgium had been the colossal fuck up. You had let the words slip out of your mouth far too quickly and Niki had been no better, following suit. And you had let Lewis go to the press with emotions still running high, you fucked it all up even more by adding fuel to the fire only to attempt a shoddy job at saving face later on. Throughout it all Nico had stayed silent, _it was a racing incident_ and he was sorry, he paid the fine, he did as you, Paddy and Niki wanted him to. But that was it, was it not? Then Singapore rolled around with that failure and Nico had looked at you in disbelief. You had apologised and put your arm around him because that is what you do to the driver you need to win your constructor's championship and he had nodded at your words, but when he had finally pulled away he looked as if he had been trying not to recoil from you all along and you had stared at him as he left, stung. But really, what had you been expecting? Monza had not been enough, this was the true punishment. Or was it? Just as how everyone doubts him for Monaco and Belgium because no one will really know how it went down, you know that only you will know the truth about Singapore. And now that things have ended this way, you start to doubt yourself and your decisions but it is far too late for that now.

_We don't want any spin in there that the championship was decided because one car let down the driver._

That had been your words to the media in September and here you are in December after what had happened in Abu Dhabi. An awful start for Lewis, then he had started losing power, dropping through the grid and at lap forty six he had to retire the car because of safety issues. Lewis had been furious. Understandable, of course. You had watched in disbelief as the events had unfolded because truth is, in your heart of hearts, this was never how it was supposed to end. From day one Nico was never meant to be the Mercedes world champion — it was always meant to be Lewis Hamilton. The champion Niki had poached so cleverly off McLaren to partner your perfect number two: PR savvy, clean cut with a family friendly image. Lewis, the number one with the star power to propel Mercedes to greater heights. Not the number two, never mind that there is some appeal in a German winning for a German team. All is negated when you get down to it — Nico is not truly German in any sense of the word, god, he is not truly anything to begin with. And there lies your problem, with him winning. It was never part of the plan. If anything, the car failure should have happened to car number 6 and not car number 44 in Abu Dhabi.

So this is it, perhaps. Your punishment for all that you have done, all that you tried to do but failed to accomplish as team boss of Mercedes. Maybe the stars had aligned and decided to mock you, for all your machinations you would not achieve what you had set out to do. And it is ridiculous, is it not? To think that the champion you want and you need is Lewis, but the one you look at from time to time, stolen glances, hands lingering on his body for more than you really should allow is Nico. When you pull him into a hug you grin and your hands are all over him and he lets you, lets you hold him close, lets you put your hands where they really should not go and you wonder, of course you do. You wonder if there could be more but you could never dare, not when Lewis keeps making accusations of you being in Nico's side of the garage. And Nico, well, he may let your hands linger on his skin but he never lets you close, and your mind drifts back to the Williams days. The memories are all too clear — you are not good enough for him; you will never be good enough for him. He may look at you with light in his eyes but you know that light is not for you alone, that you share it with others like Button, Webber, Raikkonen, just to name a few, and the difference is that with someone like Button he leans in and stays close but with you it is far from that.

You want Nico. You cannot deny it, swallowing hard as he lifts his hips and rides your cock, gripping tight on your shoulders for balance. But for all the pain that he has caused you, you had never wanted to hurt him. You had never wanted to take him like this, against his will with a gun pointed at him threatening him with his life. His cock is hard, leaking pre-come against your shirt, wetting the material as he moves and you feel horrible about it because this is not what you want. You want him to feel good because he wants it, not because his body is reacting involuntarily as he rides you.

It does not take long before you give in, putting your hands on Nico's hips and you bury your face where his neck meets his shoulder, murmuring apologies against skin in a garbled mess of English and German. What you do not expect is for him to cradle your head, touch infinitely gentle, stroking your hair before he shifts, fucking himself on your cock. You tell him that you are sorry but he will have none of it, biting at your earlobe to shut you up and the guilt eats at you. You want him so badly but he is not what your team needs at the top. You want him so badly but he can never be yours, but here he is, presented on a platter to you because you fucked up. Thing is, what Lewis will never know is that even if Nico had slept his way through the team it would not have changed a thing — at the end of the day Lewis was always meant to be the champion but alas, fate had something else in store. The best laid plans are always doomed to fail, or some shit to that effect.

You come inside Nico, gripping his hips hard, keeping him in place. It had been easy for you to forget in your position, but when you look up you remember your audience, no, the director of the entire performance. _Lewis_. Nico's cock is still hard and he clenches around you so you reach in between the both of you, wrapping your hand around his cock, jerking him off. He does not last beyond a couple of strokes of your hand and he cries out, shuddering in your arms when he climaxes, body pliant afterwards.

It is an odd situation to be in. You hold Nico, naked and vulnerable curled up against you while Lewis holds out his gun, arm shaking. Nico shifts and your soft cock slips out of him, and you know that like this, the sheets will be soiled. But you can hardly care now. 'Are you satisfied now?' you ask quietly, looking at Lewis. It looks like there is a bulge in front of his trousers, but you cannot be certain. Nico shivers against you, skin slick with sweat and he whispers against your skin _no more, no more, please make it stop_ and the sensation is akin to that of a thousand knives stabbing your heart.

Lewis laughs shakily, and you wrap your arms around Nico, determined to protect him. It is a foolish thing to do, but it is the least you can do for him now, after all that you have done. You are prepared for Lewis to pull the trigger, your stomach turns with dread but instead he spits, tripping over the carpet as he leaves the room.

The door slams shut behind him, and you can hardly believe that he is truly gone. It is only then that you realise that Nico is shaking against you, and his cheeks are wet with tears.

'I'm sorry,' he chokes out in English, then he switches to German and you are at a loss for what to do. 'I should've fought him, I shouldn't have-'

'No,' you say, cutting him off. You pull off your jacket to cover him, but instead he sobs harder against you. 'It was my fault, I...'

There should be something for you to say. Something to make him feel better, something to make yourself feel better about all this. But the words do not come, because how can you tell your world champion that this had all happened because the heavens had orchestrated his win instead of Lewis, against the original plan that you had? The words die in your throat as he struggles to breathe against you, and you stroke his hair the way he had done for you just a while ago.

'I'm so sorry,' you say, voice a hoarse whisper, even though you know it will never be enough. 'I'm so, so sorry.'


End file.
